Wake Me Up When I Remember
by mellarkarry
Summary: Post-War: Ron walked out the door, knowing he could do nothing to help the poor boy that saved a world that he couldn't remember.
1. Chapter 1: Tell Me You Didn't Forget

**Hey! This is my first HP fanfic and I'm co-writing it with charchi8987 :D Hope you enjoy (:**

'And all was well.'

**xxx**

"_Do you... Is he… is he awake?"_

"_Ginny, come on, it's no use. You've been asking this for a year now."_

"_Ron! Don't be so pessimistic about this."_

"_I'm sorry, Hermione. You know I want him awake just as the next person. I just don't see it happening any time soon."_

**xxx**

Harry's eyes fluttered open to the bright rays of sunshine and the smell of strong antiseptic. He blinked furiously as he tried to adjust to the light. Finally, his vision focused on an unknown face above him. She was dressed in white clothing, smiling cheerfully. She reached down to his lower back and helped him sit up properly. Confused, Harry tried to get up, but the woman would not leave his side. He narrowed his eyes at her uniform, reading the tag _Nurse Crofilius._

"You're, you're a nurse?" Harry stuttered, struggling to move his jaw through the stiffness of what seemed like a long sleep. He fumbled at the bedside table for his glasses, placing them on his nose and finally seeing everything a little clearer. He didn't understand; the stiffness in his joints, as if he hadn't moved for years, and the reason he was in a hospital to begin with.

"Of course, Harry. You're in St. Mungo's."

"St. Mungo's? Is that in London?"

At his question, Nurse Crofilius' cheerful attitude faded into a sad glance. It confused Harry even more, making his head hurt.

"How about you use the loo, Harry?" The nurse helped him stand and led him over to a small room. She let him in then went out and closed the door, leaving him to his solitude. He turned towards, the sink, turning on the tap and letting the cold water run through his fingers and douse his face. Harry looked up, and what he saw made him loose his weak foothold on the ground and he fell, landing on the mat beside the bath. Slowly, shaking, he held onto the edge of the sink, helping himself back up.

"Harry, are you alright?" came the worried voice of the nurse.

Harry blinked once before answering, "I'm fine."

Harry stared at the mirror, expecting to see the little 11-year-old boy staring back at him, but instead he was greeted with a stranger. The man was pale and skinny, like it had been years since he'd eaten. His face was covered in black stubble, his black hair wild and messy. His green eyes were familiar, as if they were a part of some distance memory. When Harry ran his fingers along the line of his hair, so did the man. Harry lifted the front of his hair up, and so did the stranger. They had the same scar. The lightning bolt he had gotten in a car crash when he was only a toddler; the one that killed his parents. Harry stared dumbfounded back at the man, who showed the same expression as him. _What is this?_ Harry ran his chin along the side of his chin, just as the man did, but he felt the stubble that the man had stenciled onto his face. _Is that…me?_ Harry had never felt more puzzled and disoriented in his life. _How could I look so old?_

Harry made his way back out into the hospital room, his eyes narrowed behind his round glasses. Nurse Crofilius stood there, writing things on a clipboard, her eyes furrowed into an intense frown.

"Excuse me, Nurse Crofilius?" Harry whispered uncertainly. Nurse Crofilius broke out of the intense concentration that she had just been submitted to and made a cheery smile. "Yes?"

"I know, I know this will sound weird but…how old am I?" He inhaled quickly as he said it, knowing that the truth of why he was in a hospital with a weird name, looking at strange reflections would cause him pain and ease at the same time.

"Oh, um, Harry? You're 23. Don't you remember?" Her attitude kept changing, this time more anxious and concerned. "Harry? I don't mean to be rude, but there are some people who want to see you."

I couldn't keep the disbelief out of my voice. "Who would want to see me?" The Dursley's must certainly be happy that he was gone and old enough to not be there. Never had any friends at school due to Dudley. _Why would anyone want to see me?_

Not giving an answer, Nurse Crofilius went to the door, sighed, and opened it. Harry was not prepared for the shrieks that came from behind the door. Three people ran out in front of the entrance, running towards him and swarming him in a tight embrace. Never had he felt this love as the Dursley's had made point to reject him. When they broke apart, he took in their appearances. There was a man, about his age with ginger hair, and lots of freckles. He was a little pale, with a shaved face and bright blue eyes. He smiled at Harry, his arm around the waist of another girl. She had frizzy brown hair and brown eyes and such a sweet smile. Another woman was standing there. She had the same ginger hair as the other man, but hers was sleek and reached her waist. She was an imitation of the ginger boy, though less stocky and skinnier and smaller in size. She beamed at him, just like the others did, but her gaze held more intensity and longing than the others. She gave out a small laugh, leapt forward and kissed him.

Harry was startled. Never had he ever been kissed; he was, or he thought, he was too young to be kissed. He had his 11-year-old mind in his 23-year-old body. He did what his instinct told him to do and he made no move to resist. When she finally stood back, she leant against his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. She sighed happily, closing her eyes. "I've missed you so very much, Harry." Her voice was light and soft, like it was a secret that only he was supposed to know.

"We all have, Ginny." The ginger man addressed the girl holding onto Harry within an inch of his life. Ginny blushed and stepped back, letting the ginger man step forward to hug Harry. He patted Harry on the back and laughed heartily, like it was an old friendship that had been ignored for so long. He stood back and laughed more, almost in tears.

"Well, go on then. Hermione."

The girl with the brown hair leapt forward with the same enthusiasm as Ginny had, the same intensity, but this embrace had no trace of romance, only a friendship that was dear. As Hermione hugged him, he heard small sobs come from behind the wave of frizzy hair. When she broke contact, she wiped her eyes and spoke sternly but with some humor to the Ginger man. "I swear, Ron, if you tell anyone I cried you'll be living with hell." She laughed and rejoined the man.

All three of them stood in a line, surveying Harry, waiting for him to say something. He had been so bewildered by all the affection that had thrust upon him that he hadn't reacted to any of them as if they were strangers hugging him. The silence and intensity stood between them as if there was another person there. Harry looked at their expectant faces, waiting for him to be overjoyed by their company. He saw their happiness mask their worry or concern, and discomfort overtook him and he had to speak.

"I'm sorry, you all, it's just… well, this is all very kind and all but… I don't know who you are."

The passion and silence had built up to such a high level that Harry grew claustrophobic and itchy with discomfort. The girl Ginny had tears in her eyes and Hermione was leaning into the crook of Ron's neck, crying silently, while he bore a sad look on his face. No one said anything for at least 5 minutes, adding to the already awkward moment.

Eventually, Ginny stepped forward. She walked slowly towards Harry, looking into his eyes with such sadness and longing that Harry felt bad for what he said. Her blue eyes darted around in his, searching for even the slightest hint of recognition or emotion to her. Small sobs escaped her and she managed to choke out the words she needed to ask. "It's me, Ginny. Harry, you have to remember me. Harry, please. I love you. We're… we're married, remember?" When Harry gave no response, Ginny bent her head, letting the tears she had struggled to hold back fall down her fair cheeks. And with that, she turned away from him and ran out the door.

Ron looked at Harry with such confusion and sadness that Harry himself wasn't sure what to do. Hermione looked up from Ron's shoulder and wiped the tears out of her eyes. She took deep breaths, calming herself down. When the sobs stopped, she spoke quietly and matter-of-factly, though still her voice was filled with concern and question.

"Harry, do you remember anything? Do you remember Ron and me?" Harry just shook his head at the strangers that stood before him. "Harry, please. Do you remember anything about Hogwarts? Or Dumbledore? Or Snape or anybody?!" Her voice had risen to a shrill cry of desperation and she too took off out of the room. Only Ron remained.

"Look, Ron, I think… either you guys confused me with someone else or I just don't remember anything. Look, I'm sorry, I really am, that you guys are looking for this Harry but he isn't me."

Ron sighed heavily and looked down at his shoes, his brow furrowed into a deep concentration. A minute passed until he looked up. "Do you remember anything about Magic?"

Harry tilted his head to the side in bewilderment. Magic? At home he'd never been able to say anything weird or abnormal, or it would result in a scolding from Aunt Petunia. "I'm sorry, I really can't help you."

"That curse really did hit you hard, didn't it? You've been out for more than a year." And with that, Ron walked out the door, knowing he could do nothing to help the poor boy that saved a world that he couldn't remember.


	2. Chapter 2: I'll Try For You

**Hello again :) Chapter 2 now :) I'm co writing this with charchi8987 and I really think you should check out her stories ;)**

**And both of us have written stories for Hunger Games, so if you want you could check those out too (:**

Harry sat at the edge of the bed, head in his hands. He looked around his private room in St. Mungo's and sighed. They had given him back his old clothes and bought his new ones. He wanted to leave. He hated the antiseptic smell, the strange people walking up and down the corridors with diseases he had never even heard of. Most of all, he hated the whispers and praise that were given to him whenever he walked down the hall.

"Look, it's Harry Potter!"

"We salute you, Potter."

"Your parents would be proud of you."

Harry didn't know what they were talking about. He didn't have a single clue as to what he did to make him famous. But whatever he did must've been big; big enough to deserve the high praise that people were showering him with.

Harry wanted to leave. He wanted to leave and figure out his life.

'Why can't I leave?'

He had asked this too many times to Nurse Crofilius, but it was the same answer each time: 'It's not safe for you right now, Harry. You need to recover fully.'

Harry sighed and wiped his forehead, touching the lightning scar. It throbbed periodically and it wouldn't stop no matter what medication he was given. He ran his fingers through his hair, hearing the bickering outside the door once more.

The three people who had visited him earlier this week came everyday, staring at him expectantly but not looking as disappointed as they had the first day when they found the truth. They would stare at him with such sorrow in their eyes. It made Harry's heart swell with sadness, but more confusion than sadness. They talked outside his door, asking the nurse the same questions as they did everyday.

"Why can't he remember?"

"It's his hippocampus. The part of the brain that stores long-term memory? Along with his prefrontal cortex and his parietal lobe, those were the ones strongly affected by the curse. And the combined curses that the Death Eater threw at him affected him even more. The memory charm that was used to make him disoriented mixed with a sleeping spell and it hit his frontal lobes and damaged them."

"Is there anything you can do?" asked the man with ginger hair, whose name he could not remember.

Harry didn't know whom he felt more sorry for; himself, or those three people. They came everyday, telling him of a strange world with strange people who did strange things. They told him of relations he had with people he didn't recognize. The strangest was that they thought he was the boy who had saved this entire world.

"Me?" He had laughed at that one, but quickly stopped when he saw the continuous look of hurt on their faces.

He sighed and ran his hand through his tangled black hair.

_Knock, knock._

"Who is it?" asked Harry tiredly.

"It's Ginny," said the woman outside with a soft voice.

"Come in."

Ginny opened the door tentatively and peeked in. "Did I come at a bad time?"

Harry shook his head. "No, no, just come in. I'm just… thinking. There's nobody to talk to anyway."

Ginny nodded, came in the room and shut the door gently. She turned to him with a bright smile and passed him a package. Harry took it from her hands and froze when their fingers brushed. The spot where her thumb brushed his hand burned, and Harry didn't realize he was staring at her until she said, "Well, open it."

Harry nodded quickly and slowly unwrapped the brown paper. Inside was a golden sphere with dark outlines and the words 'I open at the close'.

Harry smiled and asked, "What is it?"

The sadness was etched into Ginny's smile as she said; "You caught this in your first Quidditch match. You nearly swallowed it."

"Swallowed it?" asked Harry in surprise.

"Yes. You're broom had been jinxed by Quirrel, but when you got control of it you went for the snitch and slipped, catching it in your mouth. When you got to ground, you looked like you were going to be sick. You spat the snitch out and won for Gryffindor." Ginny smiled, laughed a little even at the thought of Harry on a broomstick, and how she had helped him Captain after Oliver had left.

Harry looked down at the golden ball with the engravings, seeing the metal twinkle in the light. He stared intensely at it, focusing on the small ornament he held in his hands.

It had been one of his dreams. He at least thought it was. Harry had been on a broomstick, flying way up in rain cloud clustered skies. People circled below him, as well on broomsticks. He felt the lurches and excitement when he dropped down, zooming past other players and heading for a small golden object that buzzed just out of his reach every time he tried to grab it. No matter how quick Harry was, he just could not reach it. Finally, he stumbled forward, catching the ornament in his mouth. He spat it out, and watched it spread its golden wings and dance in rhythmic movements around his head as people cheered.

"Harry? Are you alright?" Harry snapped out of his reverie and turned his gaze back onto Ginny.

"Oh, um. Yes, I am. Thank you." He muttered his words, thinking about the vision.

"Should I leave?" Ginny gently brushed against his hand, sending a warm feeling up his arm.

"No. There's no need. I might have some questions." Harry returned his gaze to the small golden orb that he held delicately in his hand. He twirled it between his fingers, which had been decorated in small scars that he couldn't recall requiring.

"Kiss it."

"What?" Harry turned back to Ginny again, startled by her request.

"Kiss it. The snitch answers to you, Harry." Harry looked confused for a moment, and then decided it was better to obey than to argue. He brought the snitch up to his lips and kissed it. The golden orb sprouted tiny golden wings, which fluttered and danced as they tried to be released from his grasp. Harry held it out and released.

The snitch immediately leapt from his fingertips and pirouetted away from him. The small buzzing noise drew Harry to it, and he snatched in the air, grabbing at the golden ornament. He felt the cold metal in his hands and held the snitch between two of his fingers. The snitch buzzed and squirmed in protest, but knowing it had been caught, folded its wings and went silent.

"Why did it do that?" Harry raised his head, turning towards the red head whom was barely an inch away from him.

"It responds to you. Snitches respond to whomever caught them."

"Did I catch this flying on a broomstick?" Harry spoke softly, asking questions he would have never dared to ask in front of Aunt Petunia.

"You did. You were seeker on the Quidditch team." She laughed softly, quietly, like it was some distant memory that she was struggling to hold onto. Like it was a memory filled with sadness and joy. "You're just as fast as you were when you played."

Harry sat there silently. He almost believed. Almost believed that he played a game on broomsticks, high in the skies, flying down to catch speedy golden orbs. He shook his head, feeling Ginny's breath on his neck and realizing she was close enough to kiss him. Abruptly, Harry stood up, unable to take in the closeness and warmth he felt with her and the make-believe everyone was talking about.

"No. No! This isn't true. Never could this ever exist. Only witches in fairytales ride on broomsticks. This isn't real. This isn't real!" Harry's breathing was hard, and he panted as he ranted and stormed around the room. "Why is everyone doing this? Why can't they just see that I want to go home? I don't know who you are or why you are trying to make me believe in some story I was never even allowed to mutter about when I was a boy. How do you expect me believe this rubbish?"

Ginny cautiously got up, walking slowly towards Harry. "Harry, please. What reason do I have to trick you? The reason I am here day after day is because I believe you can remember and you can come back home with me." She placed her hands on his shoulders, leaning in and breathing in his scent.

Harry was touched by the embrace, and let the moment stay, but reality rushed back and he pushed her off. "No. Please, I'm sorry. I really am, but I just can't do this right now. I really appreciate you coming here every day for my well being but I just don't get anything that you're saying. I just can't believe in a world where people use magic and fly on broomsticks, let alone that I saved it from a vicious dark lord whose name nobody would tell me!"

Ginny backed away slowly, tears sparkling in her clear blue eyes. She bowed her head, and a tear fell onto the floor.

Harry swore he felt his heart crack. "No, Ginny," he said softly as he walked over to her. "Stop. I'm sorry. It's my fault. I do really think that in time this could actually help. I'm sorry, I'm such a jerk."

Ginny looked up at Harry with fresh tears in her eyes. Harry raised his hand slowly, and they shook slightly as he gently wiped away the trail of tears on her cheeks. Ginny shut her eyes and let out a sob.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry worriedly. "Did I do something?"

Ginny shook her head quickly and opened her eyes. The tears made her eyes shine even more, entrancing Harry.

"No," she whispered. "I just wished that you remembered. I just wished that we don't have to start again."

Harry ached at the pain and longing in her voice. He didn't know what to say, so he just brought her down on to his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist. He felt his shirt getting wet as her tears fell onto his shirt. He gently placed his chin on her head and rubbed her back softly. He didn't know what he was doing; whatever he was doing just felt like routine. Something he had done so many times that he would be doing it without knowing it. Another missing piece in his puzzle that was yet to be found and fixed into place.

"I'll try my hardest to remember, Ginny," promised Harry. "I'll try. For you."


End file.
